M. (looking around). So master’s gone out. It’ll do him good, I’m thinking. Sure I don’t see how missis gets along wid him, when he’s so fussy. (Goes to closet, L., and after a short stop, returns and exit, L. Mr. F. reappears, R., bearing a glass of water, which he places on the table. He continues to cough.)
Mr. F. The water does not remove the irritation in my throat. I must take some more of the drops. (Goes to closet, L., and returns with a bottle; a label on it this time. He gazes at the label, and starts back in terror.) What’s this? Poison? And I’ve already taken a spoonful of it! That was what made me feel so strangely. Oh, I’m a doomed man! (He rings the bell violently, and sinks into a chair. Mary enters, L.)
M. Oh, lor sakes, what makes you look so pale, sir?
Mr. F. (excitedly). I’ve taken poison, Mary. I feel a pain in my side, already. Why doesn’t Mrs. Fisher come home? Oh, dear, what shall I do?
M. Can’t I get you something to take, sir?
Mr. F. (impatiently). Oh, no, no. I’ve taken too much already. Nothing would help me now. I feel the poison coursing through my veins already, and cold chills are passing over me. Bring a blanket to cover me, Mary. I hope I shan’t die before Susan comes.
(Mary brings a pillow, which she places behind him, and puts a blanket over his knees.)
M. Don’t you feel a little better now, sir?
Mr. F. (with an injured look.) Better! People don’t usually feel better when they are dying. (Sound of a bell is heard outside.)
M. Mrs. Fisher is come.